Black Hole
by RealIceMetalPunk
Summary: When Liv eats the brain of a potentially suicidal teen, she doesn't feel any different. So why does everyone keep telling her that she is?
1. Chapter I: What the Job Demands

**Chapter I: What The Job Demands**

Olivia Moore removed her winter coat and took the opportunity to stretch before putting on her lab coat and leaving the small office towards the main room of the county morgue. "Hey, Ravi, I was thinking we could hang out at that new bar on Fifth tonight, check it out and see—"

"Liv."

"Well, fine, a simple 'no' would suffice."

Her boss didn't look up at her. "No, Liv, I mean look at the slab."

"Oh." Liv looked and immediately understood Ravi's sentiment. "I'd say 'he's just a kid', but at this point, I'm starting to get jaded about that. Does that make me a monster?"

"No, but being a zombie might."

"True. What happened to him?"

"Dunno. Haven't done the post mortem yet, have we? Report says 'Jacob Roscoe, deceased due to possible suicide', but cops think there was some foul play."

Liv hesitated. "Suicide? So...you want me on some potentially suicidal brains?"

"Hey, it's not what I want, it's what the job demands. But maybe you're right about this one; risk isn't worth it. Time to go old-fashioned for once?" He glanced at his friend hopefully.

Just then, Detective Clive Babineaux walked through the morgue doors, swiftly as always. "I see you've got the latest guest of Hotel Morgue. Find out anything yet?"

Ravi spoke up exasperatedly. "Clive, he _just_ arrived. Like two minutes ago."

The detective was not impressed. "And? Any zombie brain visions that could help us? I'm...still not used to saying things like that." A recent initiate into Club Z, Clive understood how important the zombie world was to crime-solving, but even _that_ thought weirded him out at times.

"I haven't eaten yet," Liv answered. "I don't think I want to. We might just do this the normal way."

"Why? Your visions are the reason we're partners, Liv."

"Okay, firstly, thanks for invalidating all my years of medical school," she replied in mock offense. "And secondly, potential suicide? Let's say it _was_ a suicide—I don't want that brain inside mine."

"I mean...it's not like you can kill yourself, right? Being a zombie and everything."

"Tell that to the hoard you killed at the Supermax party," Ravi reminded him.

"Good point."

" _And_ 'gee, Liv, you're our friend and we don't want you to have to go through that ordeal', right?" Liv looked from Clive to Ravi, wide-eyed.

They replied in unison, "Yeah, sure." "Whatever."

Liv scoffed. "Such great friends you guys are."

"We're kidding, Liv," Clive chuckled. "We won't make you do anything you don't want, if you're really worried about it. Just do your doctory thing, you two, and hope we don't hit a brick wall."

One brick wall later, Liv found herself staring again at the corpse of Jacob Roscoe. "So I'm actually doing this, then? Eating a suicidal kid's brain?"

"Seems so," her boss unhelpfully confirmed. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"'It's not what I want, it's what the job demands,' remember?" She didn't mean that to sound as sarcastic as it did, but she was content with its ultimate tone.

"Hey, don't use my own words against me with your painful accuracy and valid points."

Liv sighed. "Let's just get this over with. I'm thinking chicken brain soup today."

Ravi watched his colleague carefully as she slurped up the last of the organ-infused soup. "So...how do you feel?"

"I mean, I just ate, but I feel fine, I guess. I don't feel sad or anything. Maybe he wasn't suicidal after all?"

Ravi wasn't so sure. "Well, I'll keep an eye on you just in case. And don't get mad if I check up on you at home, either."

"Jeeze, stalker."

"I meant over the phone," he replied playfully.

Liv didn't seem to be playing. "I know, I'm just kidding. No need to get so defensive."

"I...wasn't defensive?" he clarified. "I was teasing you right back."

"Uh-huh. Anyway, I'm going to head to the station. Hopefully I'll get a helpful vision on my way there. Probably not, but I may as well try."

"Well, you never know. Could just be a slow brain day." He tried to sound encouraging.

"Like every day. Later."

As Liv walked out of the morgue, Ravi furrowed his brow. "That was weird," he said to himself. Then he remembered that Liv had just eaten human brain soup, and weird was a relative term, so he shook off the odd feeling and returned to work.


	2. Chapter II: Social Larvae

**Chapter II: Social Larvae**

As Liv pulled into her usual parking space in front of the police station, she grunted. Not a single vision had come to her on her trip, like she knew would happen, so now she was about to head into the station without anything to give her partner. Even worse, she didn't even feel any different; the brain must have been defective or something, because it was doing absolutely nothing for her. Completely useless, like she would be to Clive in about two minutes.

She walked in, and Detective Babineaux nodded to her as he stood from behind his desk. "Hey, there you are. Got anything for me?"

Liv shook her head and followed him down the hall. "Not really. I mean, he was strangled with a rope, but duh, noose. We don't really know much else. I ate, so we'll see if anything pops up, but I don't think it will."

Clive held out a hand to stop Liv from taking another step. He looked her straight in the eyes. "Wait, I thought we said you weren't going to chow down on this one?"

"I wasn't, but I didn't have anything else to give you, so I went with it. Doesn't matter, the brain is useless. Not a single vision, not a single anything."

Clive lowered his arm, still not convinced his partner had made the best decision. "Yet. Keep the optimism."

"Hmph," was the only answer.

"Look, I was about to go and interview Jacob's teacher, see if he had any enemies at school his parents didn't know about. Come with me and see if anything triggers."

"Sure. Whatever," Liv answered unenthusiastically. "What makes you so sure it wasn't a suicide, though?"

Clive shrugged. "I'm not sure. But as a cop, you see a lot of suicides, unfortunately, and something just feels...off about this. I don't know what, and I could be wrong, but I want to make sure before he's buried."

"Fair enough, I guess. So what's the teacher's name?"

Ms. Linda Stiegler sat at her desk grading exams when she heard a knock at her classroom door. "Come in!" Why did the students always interrupt her after hours? They inevitably skipped other classes to try and persuade her to boost their grade, as though lowering their other grades wouldn't just make them break even.

Today, however, the knock was not from a student. Instead, a handsome Black man with a badge and an extraordinarily pale woman with a frown entered the room. "Linda Stiegler? I'm Detective Clive Babineaux, Seattle PD, this is my associate, Olivia Moore. We're here to ask you a few questions about one of your students, Jacob Roscoe."

Linda felt her heart drop. "Oh, yes, I heard. When he wasn't in class the past few days, I assumed he was ill and just hadn't called out. It's a dreadful reality after all."

"Yes, well, we're sorry for your loss. Could you tell us a bit about Jacob? Any reason you can think of why he might take his own life?"

"Besides, you know, life itself?" Liv added helpfully. Clive gave her a strange look, but she didn't know why.

"Well, Jacob wasn't the most popular student at Ford High. He was extremely bright, but if others are social butterflies, he was more of a social larvae. Still time to grow, but not quite there yet, if that makes any sense."

"Did he have any issues with other students? Maybe someone picked on him for being different?"

"Oh, many, but nothing so serious that anyone would harm him, if that's what you're implying." Linda seemed genuinely shocked at the insinuation. "Although..."

"Someone wanted to end his misery?" Liv asked. Another strange look from Clive, so Liv returned it with a "What? Just helping" gesture back.

"No, nothing like that!" Ms. Stiegler replied, surprised. "About a week ago, Jacob seemed more upset than usual. After class, I asked him if everything was okay, and he said he was fine, but...well, I was concerned. So I did a little digging of my own, and I found that he had stopped attending his math class without any excuse or explanation about three weeks ago. He was failing math because of it. I was going to ask him about it, but then...he never showed up to class again..." Her voice trailed, lost in reverie.

Clive gave a knowing look to Liv and asked, "What's his math teacher's name, and where can we find him?"

"Mr. Stoker, room 312."

Suddenly, Liv felt the synapses in her brain firing, and her field of view was replaced by a memory. She was standing outside room 312, her back against the closed door, while a middle-aged white man with a gray beard got in her face. "Mr. Stoker, I can't do that! My mom would kill me!" she heard herself say—or rather, she heard Jacob say.

The man was clearly angry. "You will do it, or else you will fail my class. And in case that's not enough motivation, if it's not done by tomorrow evening, I can find a reason to have you suspended as well! Is that clear?"

The memory ended, and Liv was back in the present. Clive was thanking Ms. Stiegler for her time, and as he stood to leave, he aggressively pulled Liv's arm up and out with him. "Clive, jeeze, not so hard! What's wrong with you?"

As soon as they were out of anyone else's earshot, Clive began his lashing. "'End his misery?' The kid was 14, Liv! I knew this was a bad idea. You're going home, you're getting something else to eat, and even then you're off this case until Jacob's brain wears off, do you hear me?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Clive, relax. I feel fine." Liv rolled her eyes. "Besides, I can't get rid of Jacob's brain now; I finally got a vision!"

"You...you did?" Liv told him all about what she'd seen: how angry Mr. Stoker had looked, how he was demanding Jacob do something and threatening him if he didn't.

"What did he want Jacob to do?"

"No idea," Liv answered. "Must have been something important. Guess we're talking to this Stoker guy next, then."

Clive sighed. "Yeah, fine. Stay on Jacob's brain in case you get anything else, but you're gonna let me or Ravi or Major—anyone—watch over you until you eat, is that clear?"

"Thanks for the concern, Clive, but I haven't even felt any part of Jacob's personality yet. It's kind of weird that I'd get a vision without that..."

"You're kidding, right, Liv?"

Liv furrowed her brow in confusion. "What?"

"Just promise me you'll keep a buddy."

"Okay, fine, I'll keep a buddy, like I'm completely useless on my own."

Clive shook his head, then motioned for Liv to walk ahead of him as they made their way to room 312.


	3. Chapter III: Insomnia

**Chapter III: Insomnia**

Clive knocked on the door of room 312 once. No answer, so he knocked again. Still no answer, so he opened the unlocked door...to find an empty room. "Stiegler did say he would be in his classroom now, right?" Liv nodded.

Just then, an important-looking woman in a business suit walked past, then stopped to address the pair. "Is there a problem here?" she asked.

Clive showed his badge. "We're looking for Mr. Stoker. We were told he'd be in his classroom now; where else might he be?"

"Well, that's odd; he should be preparing for his class that starts in ten minutes. He wasn't in the teachers' lounge, I was just there...come with me, I'll get you his contact information."

As the investigators followed the woman, who introduced herself as the school's principal, Clive turned to Liv and whispered, "Does something about this feel off to you?"

"Everything feels off. But yeah, it almost feels like he's disappeared."

"Exactly."

Their suspicions were confirmed when, after obtaining Mr. Rich Stoker's phone number from the faculty roster, their calls were immediately transferred to voicemail. They requested his home address from the principal and headed out to meet him—if he was at home at all.

He wasn't. No answer at his door, and without a warrant or any probable cause, they couldn't break into his house to search for evidence. "Yep...dead end," Liv said. "Figures. Guess this'll just be a cold case, then."

"Liv, we're not giving up that easy. We know this Stoker guy is involved somehow, or at least it seems like he is. All we need is a lead on his location. We have his photo on the school website, so I can put out an APB and we'll find him. I'd say 'cheer up', but I'm starting to think that would be wasted on you."

"Meh," Liv replied. She wasn't convinced anything would come of their efforts. A single vision that didn't even tell them what Jacob was being extorted for, let alone give them any information about where Rich Stoker would be, was as good as nothing. And while Clive was a much better detective than she could ever be—it's why she was an ME instead of a cop, after all—their only suspect was on the run with no leads. Not to mention there may not even be any suspects if this was, in fact, a suicide. And if Clive was so worried about her and thought she was acting dangerously, then wouldn't that mean it probably _was_ a suicide after all? The whole investigation seemed more and more like a waste of time to her. Part of her wanted to say all this out loud, but she really didn't feel like using the energy for it.

Liv returned home, dropped her keys on the couch, and headed straight to bed. She was exhausted; she didn't remember investigations being so draining. As she lay in bed, thoughts returned to her that she had cast aside to focus on helping Jacob. Thoughts of Fillmore-Graves and Vivian Stoll and the potential zombie utopia they were building. They didn't excite her, but they also didn't scare her. They just tired her out even more, made her want to sleep forever, but she couldn't sleep because she couldn't stop thinking about that utopia. Why hadn't she thought to look for more zombies before now? Why had she wasted time hiding when she could have been planning? Basically: why did Fillmore-Graves get to it before she did? And why was she so completely useless in the fight against humans who might want to exterminate zombies? They'd surely shoot her brains out on sight, but here she was, just trying to hide and play cops and robbers? What's been the point of all her decisions?

Eventually, she fell asleep, though it felt more like passing out after a full day of being in full-on zombie mode. Every muscle lacked the energy to move until her eyes dropped shut and her brain finally shut off for the night.

She was startled awake by a loud knock on her bedroom door. "Liv, are you okay?" It was Major's voice—he'd apparently used the spare key he kept for emergencies to get into her apartment, and was now turning the handle on her bedroom door.

"Major?" she asked groggily as he entered the room. "What the hell?"

"Liv, are you okay?" he asked, a look of serious concern on his face.

"Ugh, yeah, I'm fine, what are you doing here?" She rubbed her eyes, but didn't sit up.

"I've been trying to call you since like 9:30; Ravi has, too, and Clive. We almost got Peyton to try, but we figured something was wrong, so I came over to check on you. Did you...just wake up?"

"Well, yeah, hard to sleep when your ex is almost knocking down your bedroom door..." She plopped her head back onto her pillow and closed her eyes again.

"Liv, it's like 4:00. PM."

"Huh," she responded, eyes still closed, only mildly interested in any conversation right now. "Weird. Look, I'm just exhausted, so can you leave or something?"

"Liv, this is not healthy. Clive told me about the suicidal brains...we need to get you something to eat." He sat down on the side of her bed, and Liv scooched away slightly.

"I'm not hungry. I just want to sleep. I'm fine, really. No need to worry, thank you, just...let me sleep."

"I thought you were helping Clive with his case?"

"What case? The kid killed himself, that's all. His teacher was an asshole, just like everyone else, and he got tired of it and saved himself. There is no case."

"'Saved himself'?" Major raised one eyebrow. "Okay, look, I'm making you something to eat, and you're eating it. 'No' is not an option here. Besides, there's still a case: Clive got a hit on the APB and they found your guy in a motel a few miles out. He's waiting for you in the interrogation room right now, but he can't wait much longer."

Liv grumbled. "He can do it without me, just like he did before we met. He doesn't need me. Can I sleep now, please, Major?" She didn't understand why he wouldn't just leave her alone. His concern was bordering on neediness, and for no reason. She wasn't consumed by Jacob's brain, she was herself, thinking perfectly clearly. She wasn't needed, the case was basically over with, and all she needed...was sleep. For how long, she didn't know, but that didn't matter. Just sleep.

"...okay. Go to sleep, Liv." Major stood up, hesitated, then left the room.

"Huh," Liv said out loud to herself. "That was easier than I thought it would be." She closed her eyes again and tried to block out thoughts of Fillmore-Graves again, thoughts of Jacob Roscoe, and now thoughts of her failed relationship with Major. He was a zombie, she was a zombie, they should be back together; but they weren't. Because being a zombie was just an excuse; the real reason their relationship ended was because she wasn't worthy of him. He was the perfect man, even now that they were just friends. I mean, look at him, almost breaking down her door to make sure she was okay, even though she never asked him to, and he wasn't getting anything out of it. But Liv? She ran away. The first sign of trouble, and she was gone, ring and all. She watched him be tortured for months—or was it years? It felt like years—and still, she let it happen. He would never have done that to her. The way she failed him was just another tick mark on her list of screw-ups. And then there was Evan...

"So, I hope you're in the mood for brain omelets, because that's what I made," Major said as he strolled back into the room with a still-hot frying pan and a fork.

"Major, I said I'm not hungry, and also something about 'leave me alone and let me sleep'."

"Yeah, well, you've slept for 14 hours, so I think that's more than enough. And since you just described suicide as a savior, you're either eating these less depressed brains, or I'm force-feeding them to you. You know I can." He smirked.

"But I'm a zombie now," Liv mumbled.

"And so am I. Eat up."

"I don't get why you're doing this, Major. You make it sound like being realistic is a terrible thing, and wanting a little peace and quiet is—mmph!" She couldn't complete the sentence as a forkful of brains-and-eggs was shoved into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed forcefully. "Ugh, what the hell?! I didn't choke, so whatever you were trying to do didn't work!"

"I wasn't trying to choke you, Liv. Just give the new brains some time to kick in."

"Fine. Can you please just leave until then?"

"Nope. I'm staying right here with you until I know you're back in your right mind."

Liv narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, I feel much better. Totally not suicidal, perfectly happy—now will you leave, please? I'm begging a lot."

"You're not better, so no. Not yet."

"How would you even know?"

"Oh, trust me, I'll know."


	4. Chapter IV: Detours and Damsels

**Chapter IV: Detours and Damsels**

The fiancees-turned-friends sat in silence for at least 45 minutes before Liv asked, "So, whose brain did I just eat?"

"Nice try," Major said with a witty smile. "If I tell you, then you can fake it."

"My God, Major, only you could turn an organ meal into a children's riddle. I'm telling you, I feel perfectly fine."

"And yet I told you Clive was waiting for you an hour ago, and you're still here. Doesn't seem fine to me."

"Is that what this is about?" Liv was incredulous. "All this because I didn't want to go interrogate some asshole math teacher?" She flipped the covers off her body and sat up. "Fine, then. I'll go. Are you happy now?" She got out of bed.

"A little bit," Major replied. "I'm newer at the whole zombie thing than you are; what's the longest it takes before a brain kicks in?"

"I don't know, I'm not an expert," she answered. "Look: I'm going to the station to help Clive; can I not be watched like a dangerous criminal now?"

Major narrowed his eyes in consideration. "I don't know..."

"If it makes you happier, Clive will be there to watch over me, okay?"

Major resigned. "Yeah, I guess that's okay, then. You might want to hurry, though, he's been waiting awhile."

Liv drove toward the police department in silence, without music, alone with her thoughts. How long **would** it take for Jacob's brain to wear off? She felt the same as always, so she wouldn't even know if it did, would she? The only difference would be that if the brain wore off, she'd lose his memories, and she'd be of even less use to Clive and the investigation. Even more useless. Helpless. Jacob's killer would go uncaught, and it would be all her fault. Clive would hate her, as he should, and probably fire her as his partner. And without Clive, what would be left of Liv? A medical examiner with a failed relationship and no excitement in her life? A rip-off, lamer version of Ravi? She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let the brain wear off. This called for a detour...

Liv entered the police station just as her phone buzzed. Another text from Ravi, asking if she's okay, the tenth one he'd sent today. She flicked to ignore it and locked her phone again, then opened the door to the interrogation room. Clive looked up at her. "There you are! Is everything okay?"

"It would be if people would stop asking me that," she said. Then she looked at the man in the chair on the opposite side of the table, with his gray beard unkempt. "Ah, Mr. Stoker, we haven't met. I'm Liv Moore. Did you kill Jacob Roscoe?"

"What?!" the man roared.

"What my colleague means, Mr. Stoker," Clive interrupted, quickly and loudly attempting some form of damage control whilst glaring at said colleague, "is why did you run to a motel yesterday?"

"I saw your badge when you were in Linda's classroom, and I...well, I didn't want to get caught for my stash while I was working..."

"Your...stash?" Clive asked. "Are you telling me one of your students turned up dead, and the first thing you think of when you see the cops is your pot?"  
"Well...yeah?" The man seemed very nervous, almost the opposite of the forceful personality Liv had seen in her vision. "I mean, I'm around kids, and it's not exactly legal for kids to have any..." He stopped talking, his eyes shifting sideways.

"So you gave marijuana to your students?"

"I want my lawyer." Of course he did.

"Look, Rich, we don't care about whatever edibles you gave your students. We're not the DEA. Just talk about Jacob already." Liv was so frustrated with all this pointless yammering.

Stoker looked from Liv to Clive and back again. "I don't know what you're talking about. He killed himself, right? What does that have to do with me?"

"Maybe he found out about your little extracurricular gardening, so you got rid of him to keep him quiet?" Clive suggested.

"No! I mean, Jacob knew about it, sure, but most of my students did. That's why they'd come to me after class with some extra cash. Jacob wasn't into it, but he wasn't telling anyone about it, either. I had no reason to hurt him. I even offered him a hit a few times for free; seemed like he could really use it, you know? Super depressed and stressed out. But he refused to even try."

"So if we asked anyone, no one would say your relationship with Jacob was...forceful?" Clive was trying his best to fish without letting Rich know what he knew from Liv's vision.

Stoker furrowed his brow confusedly. "Forceful? I don't...no, I don't think so."

"So why did he stop attending your classes three weeks ago?"

"I don't know. I asked after him, but his mother said she didn't know anything about it and would talk to him. I don't know how that talk went, but he still never showed up. I assumed he'd had enough of my side business and didn't want to be around it anymore. Not that I sold during classes or anything!" he added hastily.

Clive sighed. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Stoker." He stood up from his chair. "You can stay there while we contact the DEA."

"What?!" he yelled. "I thought you said you didn't care about it!"

"We don't. But they do. Have a nice day." Clive left the room and Liv followed.

Once they were out in the hall, Clive turned to his partner. "Major texted me and said you'd eaten. What happened?"

"He force-fed me an omelet. It wasn't fun."

"So did it not work, or what?"

Liv was confused, as she seemed to be quite often these days. "What? Look, I don't know what kind of brains Major gave me—he wouldn't say—but what part of 'I. Am. Fine' does everyone keep failing to understand?"

"You can't just walk into the interrogation room and accuse our prime suspect of murder without any evidence, Liv! You know this, this isn't day one for you."

"Why bother beating around the bush? If we want information, it's easier to just be direct."

"Because if he did kill Jacob, you accusing him is just going to make him shut down and lie through his gnarly-ass teeth."

"Whatever," Liv mumbled.

Clive furrowed his brow in solicitude. "Liv, we're all worried about you, and we're just trying to give you some help. Just take it, please."

And then, her synapses were firing again. Liv found herself looking through the window in the door of classroom 312, but from the window leading outside at the other end of the room, she knew it was the middle of the night. From inside the room came grunts, groans, and moans. "Just take it!" she heard, in the unmistakable voice of Richard Stoker. As she turned a bit to change perspective through the tiny window, she could see only the teacher's back, with the legs of a girl no older than 17 wrapped around it.

"Clive!" Liv nearly shouted.

"I know you don't want to listen, Liv, but please—"

"No, not that! I had another vision. Mr. Stoker here was 'giving it' to a student, in his classroom. And Jacob saw it!"

"Why would he risk getting caught like that?" Clive didn't think the man could be that stupid, even if he were high at the time.

"It was late at night, like after the school was closed. And I don't think Jacob walked in on them, he was just...watching through the window."

Clive instinctively glanced toward the interrogation room door. "Okay, this is good. It's a lead. I'm guessing you didn't see who the student was?"

"No, just her legs."

"Great, so that narrows it down to any female student with legs." He sighed. "I'll look into it. You need to go find out about the new brains from Major, because I think Jacob is still in control in that mixed-up head of yours."

"I'm f—"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I swear to God, Liv... Go talk to Major. Get it sorted out. Consider that an order."

"I'm not a soldier, Clive."

"No, you're not," he replied poignantly. "Now go."

Knowing that Clive would inevitably contact Major in his overbearing attempt to make sure Little Liv did as she was told, Liv headed out to see her ex. "Hey, what's up? Didn't you just leave for the station like two hours ago?"

"Yeah, I did," Liv replied. "Clive wanted me to find out what brains you gave me. I was passing by anyway so I thought I'd ask you in person."  
"Um...just some random brains Ravi gave me. Nothing special about them. Why? Did you have a vision?"  
"Yes... yes, I did."

"Something wrong with it?" That look of concern was back on his face, the one Liv was growing increasingly tired of seeing on **everyone's** face lately.

"Nope. Just curious, I guess." Liv wasn't about to tell him that she'd had one of Jacob's memories, because if she did, she knew he'd get nosy and ask how. And then she'd have to admit that shortly after she'd left his watch, she'd gone back to the morgue and had another snack of Jacob au jus. And then he would lecture her about how disappointed he is in her, and how could she do that, and why can't she just listen to what people say, and blah blah blah. She knew all this. She knew he was disappointed, and who wouldn't be? Everyone kept saying they were worried about her, but it was obvious they were confusing worry with disappointment. She wasn't helping the case; even her visions didn't give much in the way of leads. They had the guy who was probably the killer in custody, and **still** she couldn't give them enough to arrest him. Her last vision couldn't even give them a name or face, just some bare legs. At every turn, she failed her partner, and she failed her friends. Until she got a vision that actually made a damn difference, everyone **should** be disappointed, and they **would** be. So until that happened, she couldn't admit to anyone that she'd disobeyed them and eaten more Jacob brains.

"Uh, Liv? You having another vision?"

"Hm? What? No, why?"

"You kind of...spaced out there for a second."

"Just have a lot on my mind, I guess." She forced a fake smile that she hoped seemed sincere. "Anyway, I'm going home and getting some sleep. I'll talk to you later, Major."

"Sleep? It's only 8:00 and you had, like, 14 hours of sleep this morning?"

"I'll talk to you later, Major," Liv repeated as she turned and headed towards her car.


End file.
